The condition of the Pope seemed, thankfully, to improve yesterday. His most recent health scare and his public struggle with Parkinson’s disease among other ailments has led a number of senior cardinals to wonder whether future pontiffs should be subject to a compulsory age for retirement. They are concerned at the physical strains imposed on a Pope who attempts to maintain himself in office despite adversity and to consider the consequences of devolving power to backroom figures in these circumstances. Their interest in reform is understandable. The remedy proposed, however, is not desirable.

To move in this direction would involve a number of significant disadvantages. It would be hard to reconcile with the unique role of the pontiff, a man picked after much prayer by his peers in the College of Cardinals; this is not conventional employment subject to workplace regulation. Whatever the age chosen, a limit would be arbitrary. Some Popes in solid health would be obliged to stand down, while others who were younger but still frail could continue. It would mean that a Pope approaching the moment of his departure may be left a “lame duck” or the spiritual equivalent. This could be as destabilising for the Church as the arrangements made for an ill pontiff.

It would be better for Roman Catholics to reach back into their history for a solution. The notion of voluntary abdication is one which has deep roots in the traditions of the faith. Any doubt as to its legitimacy was silenced by a decree issued by Pope Boniface VIII (1294-1303), which was then incorporated into the Corpus Juris Canonici. At least four Popes have exercised that right, with a case to be made that another three in the early years of the papacy probably did so. Another, Pius VII, signed an instruction of abdication if he were imprisoned in France while en route to crown Napoleon.

The difficulty with papal abdication, in truth, lies partly with the name itself, which is taken to be akin to abandoning a position of responsibility, but also with past practice. No Pope has, so far, stood down because of physical incapacity. Benedict IX (in 1044) led a dissolute life that brought scandal on Christendom. His successor, Gregory VI, was believed to have bribed him to depart and was himself encouraged to relinquish his authority. Celestine V (in 1294) had been a hermit before his unexpected elevation and swiftly realised that prayer, not Church politics, was his passion. Gregory XII quit as part of a process of healing schisms.

These distant examples should not besmirch the noble decision that infirmity can no longer be ignored. Abdication really needs to be redefined as retirement. A further period of contemplation and reflection on Christ could be an appropriate way to end a lifetime of prayer, having left the Vatican. It is unlikely that this Pope will want to avail himself of the option, though it would be understandable and honourable if he eventually thought that his health was harming the Church. A future pontiff might come to a different conclusion. The Church would not be weaker for a voluntary retirement.